Sea Tales: Pirate Drabbles
by ErinRua
Summary: Drabbles: 100 words each, just little poetical glimpses of the sea, pirates and our Favorite Swashbucklers that the muses randomly delivered. No Slash. Dec 25 2005 added a double drabble.
1. Drabbles

**SEA TALES:**

**TWO PIRATE DRABBLES**

**By ErinRua**

**Hunted, Hunter**

Blue seas thunder against a surging black hull, the sails above bellied full to the press of a quartering wind.  Each swell of deep water is met with a thud and powerful heave as a sleek bow knifes its way ahead of the hunter.

For he comes on a long reach beneath a cloud of white sail, that drives the might of the Royal Navy beneath it.  Hunter, nemesis, scourge of the wolves of the deep, with guns hunched in latent violence below-decks.

But the wheel spins to a new trim of tall black sails, and then the sparrow flies.

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**Storm Coming In**

She plummets from the ramparts like a dove shot off the wing, blue water clapping her to itself with a furious white splash.  And that is all.

"Will you be saving 'er, then?"

Fat chance of that, twin looks of befuddlement, and he strips coat, hat, accoutrements with brutal swiftness - "Do not lose these!"

Sharp arcing dive into the deep as the sea itself shudders and darkens.  Something calls.  Strong arms lift and strong legs kick towards the watery ceiling above.  Something awakens.  Two heads break the surface in frantic spray, but the sun is already gone.  Something comes.

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_A/N: The last drabble of course is an image of when Jack dives to save Elizabeth, and the medallion hits the water and calls the curse …_


	2. More Drabbles

**SEA TALES:**

**Three More PIRATE DRABBLES**

**By ErinRua**

**Blood and Gold**

I have sailed where most men dream.  I have seized ships off the coast of African and looted galleons off the shores of Spain.  I have poured the riches of great lords into the hands of barefoot pirates and drank rum from a silver chalice.  I have seen lizards that swim and birds that can't fly and fire in the rigging that burns cold blue.  I have heard the sea moan under an armor of ice and navigated where the stars are strange.  But one thing I never forget, mate … all this is paid for in blood and gold.

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**A Blacksmith's Hands**

A blacksmith's hands …yet these are not what a pirate would expect.  Strength and sureness, aye, precise blows of hammer, sure rasp of file, deft movements to temper a keen, bright edge to new steel.  That is a craftsman's gift and as it should be.  But this - oh this deadly dance of blade on blade and eyes staring back hot as the forge; very interesting.  A serpent's grace, an adder's strike, all here in the steel in a blacksmith's hands.  A man could learn to love that - if it wasn't trying to kill him.

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**A Blacksmith's Hands, Revisited**

They are hands that build and forge and form, hands that strike steel and hands quick with a blade.  His are hands made for strength and skill, for shaping that which is not into that which will be.  These hands, these beloved hands can kill or create with equal sureness and yet … His eyes are darkness warmed with deep lanterns and promise that has no limit, as those same hands … touch.  Living silk burns as no steel could.  A craftsman's care, a lover's need softly bids hidden fires and she is drowning in the caress of a blacksmith's hands.

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	3. Double Drabble

**To Know Him**

**By ErinRua**

Elizabeth thought she knew him. From the shy beauty of his smile to the gentle deference of his manner, from the mischief that twinkled in his brown eyes to the fragile gentleness of his touch, she knew him. She adored the solemn boy whom she loved to goad to laughter. And she took deliciously wicked delight in the youth, in his endearing awkwardness as her hair went up, her hems came down and she learned to smile from behind an Oriental fan.

She thought she knew him. Until fantasy and nightmares collided, while curses and coins forged their own grim reality. In one great detonation of thunder and strewn timbers, her dreams collapsed into the sea.

But then he rose from the clutch of death, dripping, defiant and beautiful.

"She goes free!" he demanded. And then, with iron that she had never known he possessed, "My name is Will Turner. My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner. His blood runs in my veins. On my word do as I say or I'll pull this trigger and be lost to Davy Jones' Locker!"

Then she realized she had not known him at all.

FIN


End file.
